Nina’s dark eyebrows sank. “He don’t deserve to be king, our pop pop says. He’s a puppet, which is like a doll. I’ve a doll at home. Do you?”
“Don’t be thick, Nina. Boys don’t play with dolls.” Po pushed Nina’s arm and scowled. “Pop Pop says if the puppet prince is king, it’ll be the end.”
“The end of what?”
Po shrugged. “Enough talking. You’re our prisoner, eben-lover.”
“That’s right, human.” Nina picked up another stick and jabbed at Vrell. “We’re taking you to our nest where you can’t help the puppet prince.”
“But I do not want to help the puppet prince.”
Po’s nose wrinkled. “You don’t?”
“No. I have met him on several occasions. He is an absolute snake.”
Nina giggled. “He’s slimy?”
“Very,” Vrell said, enjoying herself despite the violence that might still be taking place around her fern haven. “He snorts a lot, and he chews with his mouth open.”
“Po does that.”
“Do not!”
“Do too. Mama always says to shut your yap.”
“Does not!”
A deep and rumbling voice called, “Po! Nina!”
Nina’s eyes went wide again. “That’s Pop Pop. We’ve got to go. You stay here, and if you see the puppet prince…skin him alive!”
Vrell cringed at the cruelty of little Nina’s words.
“I skinned a reekat once,” Po said. “Then Mama made me these boots.” He held up one foot clad in thin brown fur.
Vrell had never heard of a reekat.
“Nina! Po!”
“Bye!” Nina dropped her stick and scurried off through the leathery ferns.
Po smiled and saluted. “Skin him alive!”
Vrell stayed under her fern, watching Po’s reekat boots squish over the wet moss. Her mind repeated their conversation. The idea that some felt that Prince Oren should be king was new to her. Vrell had met Oren — Prince Gidon’s uncle — at court many times over the years. He never seemed a bit interested in ruling.
Months ago, Bran had mentioned that Sir Rigil, the knight he served, was loyal to Prince Oren Hadar. She had not thought anything strange about that comment at the time. Who would not loyally serve Prince Oren? He was a wonderful man. But could Bran have been hinting at treason? Was he loyal to Oren but not Gidon? She knew how much he admired Sir Rigil. Did Sir Rigil and Po and Nina’s father serve the same cause? Could Prince Oren Hadar be looking to take the throne from his nephew? She did not believe it.
Vrell listened to the gentle patter of rain. She wondered how her new master, Macoun Hadar, fit into the royal family. He had obviously been passed over.
Soggy footsteps caused her to cower back out of sight, but Jax’s familiar voice came like a gift from Arman.
“Come on out, Vrell. It’s all over.”
Stepping out, she disturbed a pool of water that had settled on top of the fern. It spilled down the back of her tunic, and she gasped at the coldness. Jax looked down and smiled. His handkerchief sat crooked on his head, and his black hair frizzed out at odd angles. Other than that, he appeared to be in one piece.
Did she dare hope? “Is Khai all right?”
“He’s with Lord Dromos. Come, we are invited to dine and rest.”
Dine? Vrell bounded over the springy moss after Jax, which was the only way to keep up. She was so hungry. Because of the battle, Vrell had not been able to eat lunch. And now it must be nearly dinnertime. She wondered who Lord Dromos was. She did not recognize his name from court. They walked a long while, weaving around immense tree trunks and brushing past wet ferns. By the time they ventured onto a red clay road, Vrell’s tunic was soaked.
They followed the road south and met up with an amazing sight. Khai stood with all three horses beside a giant, who sat on his own giant horse.
“I see you survived the attack,” Khai said to Vrell. “How ever did you manage?”
Vrell did not acknowledge Khai. The giant man and festrier captivated her.
The man seemed taller than Jax, but maybe only because he sat on his horse. The huge beast was at least a head taller than Jax’s horse. It was silky brown and wore checkered banners of grass green and emerald. Like Jax, the giant man had black hair. Three thick plaits hung over one shoulder to his waist. A jumping brown stag was embroidered on the front of his beige tunic.
“Lord Dromos,” Jax said, “this is Vrell, our charge to deliver to Mahanaim.”
Vrell nodded. “It is an honor, my lord.”
Lord Dromos nodded in return and spurred his horse onward.
Vrell, Jax, and Khai mounted their horses and followed Lord Dromos down the road. The rain had stopped, but the forest continued to drip. Before long, Lord Dromos ventured west into the forest over no discernable trail. He stopped suddenly. His demeanor was that of a man arriving at the front door of his home, but though Vrell turned full circle, she could see no manor. Not even a cottage.
“Pethach!” Lord Dromos called out.
Vrell jumped at the sound of a clicking of chain against metal. A section of the forest slid away not fifteen feet from her horse. The moss-covered door had blended in so well with the surroundings, Vrell had not noticed it.
Lord Dromos led them into an oversized fairytale village. Hulking stone cottages, overgrown with yellow moss, sat beside one another. The air was sweet inside the gate. Honeysuckle and bluebells edged the wide dirt road beneath her feet. The road curved around tree and bush, as if it would’ve been a sin to cut down any living plant to make room for the path.
Large faces glared out windows and cracked-open doors as they passed. Did the giants dislike visitors? Certainly they could not dislike her. She had never met them.
Then she saw the giant girl, Nina, clutching the leg of the biggest giant yet.
She reached out for the girl’s thoughts and heard, Skin him alive!
Vrell smiled. Nina’s father was a watchtower, and Vrell craned her neck to get a good look as she passed. All these giants were black-haired with dark eyes. This man was no different. His long hair gathered in a single braid, and his short, bushy beard clung to his chin like moss.
Lord Dromos led his horse down the winding dirt road and across a stone bridge that arched over a sparkling stream. As Vrell’s horse crossed, her gaze followed the stream to where it disappeared into an opening in another wall of leaves. Lord Dromos led his horse around a curve in the road and up to the wall. Sure enough, before Lord Dromos reached the wall, metal clinked and the gate slid to the right. Vrell spurred her horse to catch up.
Beyond the gate, the sun lit a vast, grassy field. The color was so vibrant Vrell gasped. She turned to find where the crystal stream came in and traced its flow along the edge of the curtain wall. It turned in front of an immense greystone manor house and plunged off a mossy-green rock into a bubbling pool. The manor was built into a steep hill. On the far end, the walls rose five levels high, but on the end where the stream plummeted into the pool, only the top two levels emerged. An arched stone bridge crossed over the bubbling pool and met a set of carved stone doors twice Jax’s height.
The whole place reminded her of the quaint rock garden and fountain in the courtyard back home. Only ten times larger.
Lord Dromos dismounted the festrier in front of the waterfall. A young giant boy, just taller than Khai, led the animal away. Vrell dismounted as well and handed her horse off to another giant boy. She met his eyes, awed at his height and youth.
A tinkling bell caused her to turn away from the boy just in time to see a gargantuan dog bounding toward her. He was tan with black jowls, nose, and the tips of his long ears. He came straight for her face, his curling pink tongue — with a long stream of drool — swinging under his chin. She cried out and tucked her face into the crook of her elbow, but the beast was not dissuaded. His wet jowls flopped on the top of her head and his sniffing nose tickled.